


Forged in Blood

by queenseamoose



Series: Shriller Than All the Music [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2018-06-06 12:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6753079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenseamoose/pseuds/queenseamoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a rotting city on the coast of Niben Bay, a young Bosmer makes her first–and final–mistake. Or does she? In a single night, everything changes, and the keys to the Empire are placed in her hands. But running is all she’s ever known, and when a dark deity sets its sights on her, events are set in motion that will change Tamriel forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Prisoner

_Last Seed, 3E433_

Midnight. Heavy clouds rolled across inky skies, blotting out the last visible sliver of Secunda as silence fell over the world. From where I lay, I could just see the tiniest patch of night sky, but as the cloud cover slowly swallowed up the starlight, I sighed, turning back over onto my side.

The high window was framed with bars and offered little in the way of a view—only a thin, steady beam of light from dawn til dusk, and occasionally, if I was lucky, a glimpse at the stars. But on a night like this, luck was not on my side. Normally I didn’t mind the clouds—so long as they brought a storm along with them, but tonight the air was still, thick and stagnant as it hung in my cell.

The swampy air wrapped me in sticky haze of sweat and claustrophobia, and I found myself growing increasingly aggravated as sleep continued to evade me. The patch of sky outside my cell window showed only darkness as I tossed and turned, fighting with my worn blanket as my limbs tangled in it.

“Can’t sleep, wood elf?”

I stifled the urge to groan out loud at the sound of the raspy voice, sitting up to glare at its source. Dirty white hair framed the sharp, thin face peering between the bars of the cell across from me, his red eyes glittering in the torchlight.

“Neither can you, apparently,” I snapped. Encouraging him was a mistake, but in my foul mood I couldn’t resist. His taunts had begun the day I’d been placed in this cell, and although I’d been terrified at the time, they’d gotten old after what I could only assume had been months. It took only a week, however, to discover that he was all bark and no bite. But Valen Dreth’s true talent lay in his ability to get under anyone’s skin—and he was relentless in his efforts.

Having gotten a rise out of me, he smirked, and I rolled my eyes as I flopped back down. “Missing your days of woodland frolicking? How very sad.” He paused, and I could practically hear the grin on his face. “Those walls must feel like they’re closing in on you, hmm?”

“For the love of Talos, _shut up!_ ” But he was closer to the truth than I’d like to admit. Four steps in width, six in length—I knew the dimensions of my cell very well, having paced them many times—often on nights like this, no less. But I’d worked myself into worse frenzies before, much to Valen’s delight, and he seemed determined to never let me forget it.

“Do you feel yourself going mad, wood elf? It’s already begun, hasn’t it?” he continued when I didn’t respond. “How long have you been here? Three months? Four? It’ll happen any time now.” I gritted my teeth together as my nails dug into my palms, but I managed not to reply. I’d already given him too much. “And when it does, the guards will cut your throat just to stop the ranting, and then they’ll toss your lifeless body right into the lake!”

There was a ceramic jug sitting on the rickety little table to my left, and I eyed it from where I lay, strongly considering the temptation to hurl it at him. But that particular jug was intended to hold my water supply throughout the day, and not only it would simply shatter against the bars of my own cell, I would not receive another one until the guards found it convenient to provide one—I’d learned both these truths the hard way when I’d first arrived.

That particular memory was not helping at the moment. Valen’s grating voice droned on and on, and I could feel a throbbing pain beginning between my temples. “You’re going to die in here, wood elf!” he was shouting, as grumbles of protest rose up from further down the corridor. “You know that, don’t you? You’re going to die!”

There was also a cup sitting beside the jug, however—and I was perfectly capable of drinking directly from the latter.

I scrambled to my feet, snatching hold of the cup and taking careful aim. Squinting in the dim light, I pitched it forward—only for it to shatter against the bars just the same.

“ _What is the meaning of this?_ ”

In the din from the other prisoners, I hadn’t heard anyone enter—but the impact had just sprayed shards all over the figures in ornate armor who’d just stopped in front of my cell.

I immediately cowered, my jaw dropping in horror.  “I…I’m sorry, ma’am,” I somehow managed to choke out. “I didn’t mean to, I just… it was only an accident…”

“‘Only an accident?’” Her lip curled with undisguised rage, stormclouds filling her face. “You dare to attack your Emperor, and all you have to say is ‘ _only an accident?_ ’”

_Emperor?_ But before I could even comprehend the implications, a new voice rang out, slow and thoughtful. “Captain Renault, there is no need.” An elderly man wearing deep blue, expensive-looking robes stepped forward from behind the armored figures, and my heart nearly stopped. It couldn’t be—there was no way…

But the captain heaved a sigh, rolling her eyes. “Your Majesty, we can't afford _not_ to take every threat seriously—not to mention this cell is supposed to be off limits!” she protested, and the Emperor— _the Emperor!_ —shook his head.

“No,” he said, and this time, I thought I detected a tinge of sadness in his voice. He glanced briefly down the hallway, and even in the dim light, I noticed the tiredness around his eyes. “There is no danger here.”

The captain shook her head, but didn't argue further. “Very well,” she agreed, although she didn't attempt to hide the frustration in her tone. She then turned to me, and I immediately felt myself wither beneath her gaze. “Stand aside, prisoner!” she barked. “Over by the window. We won’t hesitate to kill you if you get in our way.”

I was already skittering backward, tripping over my discarded blanket and nearly falling flat out on the floor as one of the guards began to unlock the gate. I didn't understand what was happening but I knew there was no way the Emperor appearing outside my cell in the middle of the night was a good thing.

They silently filed into my cell, marching over to the far wall, but as the Emperor passed me, his gaze briefly flitted across my own—and then he stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening. “You!” he gasped out. “I've seen you.”

My heart began to pound faster as I pressed myself against the wall, feeling the stone jab into my back. This entire situation was quickly evolving from ‘not good’ to ‘very, _very_ bad.’ _I’m sorry_ , I wanted to say. _You’ve mistaken me for someone else. I’m not who you think I am, whoever that might be._ But I remained silent, blood flooding my face with a fresh wave of fear, and I ducked my head as the Emperor's expression of astonishment curved into a wary frown. “Let me see your face.” He crossed the cell in three quick strides, and suddenly his hand was beneath my chin, forcing my gaze up to meet a clear, hypnotic stare. He studied me for what seemed like an era, and I watched as his expression transformed from suspicion to one of utter sorrow. “You are the one from my dreams.”

He released me, bowing his head. “Then the stars were right,” he murmured, seemingly to himself, “and this is the day.” He drew in a deep breath. “Gods give me strength.”

If there was one thing I’d learned in my eighteen years, it was that the best thing to do in a bad situation was simply to _keep your mouth shut._ But the Emperor was staring at me expectantly, and although my tongue seemed glued to the roof of my mouth, I had to say _something_. “I…don’t understand.”

_Clever_ , I inwardly admonished myself, but his expression softened. “Assassins attacked my sons,” he explained frankly, “and I’m next. My Blades are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route, and by chance, the entrance to that escape route leads through your cell.”

Oh _gods_ … I slumped against the solid stone at my back, the strength suddenly sapped from my legs. This was all too much. Coming face to face with the Emperor was bad enough, but an assassination plot as well? “What do you want with me?” I demanded. I could hear my voice rising higher, its tone strained and panicky, but he only smiled—albeit a rueful smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

“You are a citizen of Tamriel, and you, too, shall serve her in your own way. And as for what you have done…” He shook his head. “It does not matter. That is not what you will be remembered for.”

I eyed him warily, wondering how he could be certain of what exactly I had or hadn’t done. But then again, he seemed to believe that he’d seen me in his dreams. Once more, I felt the urge to speak up, to correct what was clearly a misunderstanding. I was nothing more than a girl who’d made a serious mistake, and I certainly didn’t associate with Emperors—in dreams or otherwise. But the captain was clearing her throat, and I felt a hint of relief as his intense stare shifted away from me.

“I’m sorry, Sire, but we really must keep moving,” she insisted, tapping out a quick sequence into the bricks. And I stared, aghast, as an entire section of the wall swung inward, revealing the secret passageway the Emperor had referred to. I hadn’t _doubted_ him when he’d said it, but still, realizing I’d been sleeping right beside a way out for months was mind-boggling. Not that I would have been able to figure out the sequence, or even that it was there at all—but it was unnerving, and only contributed to the sense of _wrongness_ I’d been feeling since the moment the entourage had stopped in front of my cell door. But his attention had turned back to me.

“You must come with us,” he urged, his expression surprisingly earnest. “Your destiny is bound with mine, and with the fate of Tamriel itself.” There was an exasperated sigh from the opening of the passageway, and I looked up to see the captain shaking her head as she stared at her boots, although she made no attempt to challenge him.

I hesitated, my gaze darting between the guards and back to him, but he only nodded. “Perhaps the gods even placed you here so that we may meet,” he suggested, a small, thoughtful frown crossing his face. “And what path can be avoided whose end is fixed by their almighty ways?” With that, he turned and followed the captain into the passageway.

The other guard huffed, rolling his eyes. “Follow us, then. Just stay out of the way and let us do our duty.”

The third guard gave me a scrutinizing glance as he walked past. “Looks like this is your lucky day,” he commented offhandedly as he followed the others into the tunnel.

Was luck the right word? I stood there trembling in my prison rags, suddenly a peer to the Emperor of Tamriel himself and facing a fate even more uncertain than the one that seemed to have just disappeared in the blink of an eye. But Valen Dreth had been right about one thing. The longer I stayed in this cell, the more the claws of madness scrabbled at my mind, and if they continued to do so, I feared there’d soon be little left of me. No matter what form my fading chance at freedom took, there was no way I was allowing it to pass me by.

Speaking of the devil himself, he had once again skulked out from the shadows and was watching me from the doorway of his own cell, his expression unreadable. Curiosity? Fear? Jealousy? I didn’t stick around to figure it out. But I allowed myself one last moment of childish spite, throwing him a rude gesture before I disappeared into the opening in the wall.

 

Inside the tunnel, the air was stale, as though no living creature had been present in a long while. It lead sharply downward, cutting deep into the earth, and I struggled to find my footing on the uneven ground in the dark—lest I find myself crashing into the back of the Blade ahead of me. But when we emerged from the tunnel, we were met with pale brick, deep stairways, and high arches, and I felt my interest briefly piqued. _Ayleid_. I was hardly an expert on architecture, but the towering white structures that dotted Tamriel’s landscape were unmistakable, and although I had never actually set foot inside one myself, I had often seen their ruins from a distance.

My thoughts were interrupted as the captain suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, throwing up her arm. “Quiet,” she hissed. The other Blades also froze, and my heart sped up as I saw them reaching for their weapons. My ears strained for any hint of what the captain might have heard—was there something down here? Animals maybe? Bandits even? But as it turned out, either of those would have been preferable to the assassins that came bursting from the shadows.

“Close up left! Protect the Emperor!” the captain roared, her words punctuated by the rasps of the Blades unsheathing their swords as they charged forward to meet the assassins in a clash of metal. I gasped, plastering myself back against the wall as my hands rose to protect myself. I struggled to get a grasp of my magic, to call forth any sort of force that might put a barrier between myself and certain death, but I was weak and out of practice, and in my panic, my focus was slipping and I couldn’t complete the spell.

The Emperor had drawn his sword as well, and noticing my struggle, he grabbed hold of my wrist and maneuvered himself in front me. His shortsword was nothing compared to the wicked barbs I’d seen on the edges of the assassins’ weapons, but his grip was unwavering as he held it aloft in a defensive stance.

I could see little of the encounter with him blocking my view, but I could catch glimpses of movement—and more notably, the noise—or lack thereof. Was it over? I tried to peek around the Emperor, but all I saw was bare stone, and—oh. A limp, crimson-robed figure lay sprawled on the floor—one of the assassins, I could presume.

“Are you all right, Sire?” one of the Blades shouted. “We’re clear for now.” The Emperor released his hold on me, re-sheathing his sword as he stepped out into the open.

“Captain Renault?” he asked.

“She’s dead.” The grim-voiced reply came from the other Blade as he appeared from behind a pillar.

The Emperor gave a long sigh, resting his hand on the soldier’s shoulder. “I am sorry,” he said quietly, but his concern and the Blade's pained expression instantly fled my mind as I stepped forward from the narrow passageway to see the remains of the battle.

It had been short but brutal, as evidenced by the sheer amount of blood spilled across the pristine white stone. Given the numerous red-robed bodies lying where they’d fallen, it was apparent that their armor had been conjured—a protection no less robust than real steel, according to my lessons—but in the end, it’d been no match for the Blades’ swords. But their weapons were another story—seeing as they’d been enough to thoroughly smash the captain’s head in, leaving bits of gore spattered across the stones.

As I stood taking in the carnage, I felt a hand on my arm. I jumped, but it was only the Emperor. “Protect yourself,” he said, pointing to a shortsword strapped to the captain’s side. When I only stared at him numbly, he crouched down beside the body himself, the hem of his expensive robe dragging through the spilled blood.

There was a quick noise of disapproval from the Blade who’d announced the captain’s death. “Your Majesty,” he said, a prickle of frustration creeping through his tone, but the Emperor ignored him, freeing the scabbard from the captain’s body and handing it to me as he stood. “There will be more of them. You must defend yourself.”

I took it with both hands, hesitating for a moment before buckling it around my waist. Something about the act seemed almost irreverent, but it couldn’t hurt to have a blade handy, just in case. Although I had never trained with a sword, solid steel in my hand was far more reliable than the fickle nature of magicka. Besides, I thought wryly, it couldn’t get more straightforward—the sharp end was the one that went in your enemies.

There was the sound of a throat clearing behind me. “Here.” The other Blade jostled my elbow as he, too, stood from the captain’s side. “You may as well make yourself useful. Hold onto Captain Renault’s sword.” And he passed me the captain’s main weapon—the one that had spilled the very blood we were standing in.

There was power in holding a true instrument of death. I shuddered slightly as I took hold of it—even to my untrained hands, it seemed as though the souls it had sundered from the living still danced along the edge of the blade. But despite the grace and ease with which the Blades wielded them, it was heavier than I expected, and my arms briefly buckled before I managed to sling it across my back as though it were a claymore. The Blade who’d entrusted me with it eyed me doubtfully as I did so, and it could have been a trick of the lighting, but I could have sworn I saw him roll his eyes.

 “I’m Baurus, by the way,” he said, “and that’s Glenroy.” He pointed toward the brooding Imperial, and I nodded as we set off again, falling into a single file line as we made our way through the ruins. But we didn’t get much further before another wave of assassins attacked.

This time, there was no convenient alcove to hide in. I yanked my borrowed shortsword free of its sheath, my arm trembling like a new leaf as I thrust the weapon between myself and the assassins. But they were single-minded in their attacks, charging the Emperor directly only to be intercepted by Baurus and Glenroy before they got there. The Blades’ weapons deftly sought out cracks in the assassins’ armor and sang through the flesh beneath, leaving only gasping, red-robed husks to fall to the ground.

I was knocked aside in the fighting, plastered against a nearby pillar and petrified with fear. My heart thundered in my chest as one of the assassin’s maces swung alarmingly close, missing me by a fraction of an inch, and I was suddenly reminded of the captain, her brains spilled on the floor of an ancient ruin. Out of the other three members of the Emperor’s entourage, Baurus was closest to me, fiercely battling two attackers at once. He seemed to be gaining ground, but as he parried a blow to the left, the other closed in from the right, raising a mace in preparation to strike at his exposed side.

My courage suddenly found me with force of a falling boulder, my fear-softened muscles stiffening as the inevitable outcome of that blow flashed before my eyes. With a surge of power I didn’t know I possessed, I pushed off from the pillar, launching myself at the assassin’s back.

The spikes of his armor dug into the tender exposed flesh of my forearms and calves as I clung to him, and he let out gasp of surprise as he was caught off balance. I instantly realized my stupidity ( _the sword, I had a sword in my hand, why didn’t I use it?_ ) as he flailed for a moment—and then my sense of gravity tilted dangerously as he tipped over backwards, and we struck the ground. Hard.

Somehow, I narrowly missed cracking my head on the stone. That small saving grace was the farthest thing from my mind, however, as my lungs stung as though I’d inhaled nettles and the assassin’s weight drove the barbs of his armor into my chest and stomach. But before I could even begin to fight my way out from underneath him, there was an unmistakable blur of steel striking toward me, and I let out a small shriek as it stopped short a few inches shy of my own neck.

I gave a shuddering gasp of relief when I realized I was still breathing, but something wet and sticky was quickly soaking through my tunic. I wrinkled my nose in disgust as I realized it was the now-dead assassin’s blood, but the sharp edges of the weight crushing down on me were gone, leaving only red wool in their place. I started to wriggle free, but suddenly the weight was gone, and a furious Glenroy loomed above me, his arm clutched to his side and his features distorted by rage. “I thought I told you to stay out of the way,” he snarled, savagely kicking the body aside as he stumbled over to Baurus, who was reaching for his injured arm.

Shaken by both the outburst and the encounter with the assassin, I sagged back down to the stone floor, but a hand appeared in my vision, and I looked up into the Emperor’s face. “They cannot understand why I trust you,” he explained as he helped me to my feet. “They’ve not seen what I’ve seen.”

I had been wondering that as well, but I kept my questions to myself, instead probing at one of the welts rising on my arm. “Glenroy doesn’t scare me,” I mumbled, wiping away the thin line of blood that had bubbled to the surface. In truth, there was something almost comforting about his aggression—he was like Valen in that way, bark over bite. But the Emperor gave a soft chuckle.

“Then you have more courage than most,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his words. But when I looked up, a tiny furrow had appeared between his brows. “I wonder,” he said thoughtfully, “which sign marked your birth?”

The question was an unexpected one. My brows rose in confusion, but his serious, pondering expression faded to one of understanding as I blurted out, “The Shadow.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “I see.” As if sensing my bewilderment, he elaborated further. “I’ve served the Nine all my days,” he explained, “and I chart my course by the cycles of the heavens. I know these stars well, and the signs I read show the end of my path.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Can you see my fate, then?” I asked dryly, but he only chuckled.

“No. Your stars are not mine. But today the Shadow shall hide you from destiny’s cunning hounds.”

Despite the senseless nature of the words he spoke, the conviction with which he spoke them was compelling. And despite my own suspicions, a thousand questions were forming on the tip of my tongue: _Are you really so certain that you’re going to die? How can you be sure? Aren’t you afraid? Shouldn’t your Blades be the ones you’re talking to about this?_

 But when I glanced over at the Blades, Baurus had nearly finished wrapping Glenroy’s arm in a makeshift sling, and I instead blurted out the first ones that came to mind. “Why?” I asked quickly, ignoring the desperate sense that we were running out of time. “Why was it so important that I come with you? Where are we _going?_ ”

Something shifted behind his eyes then, something almost imperceptible, but he suddenly appeared ages older, a world-weary sorrow draping over him like a shroud.

“I go to my grave,” he said simply. “A tongue shriller than all the music calls me. But you—though you shall follow me yet for a while, we must soon part.”

Although meant to serve as an explanation, his words left me more confused than ever. But before I could clarify his meaning, there was the sound of a throat being cleared. “Your Majesty.” The Imperial coldly gestured down the corridor with his good arm, and we set off further into the ruins.

 

As we carried on, it seemed we could barely make it around a single corner without another group of assassins descending upon us, and although Baurus and Glenroy kept up their defenses as we fled through the ruins, it was clearly beginning to take a toll on them. Their breathing was laborious, and in the dim lighting, I could just make out the sheen of sweat on their faces—not to mention that Glenroy was still favoring his shield arm, his movements growing slow and clumsy. “Come on,” he muttered between gritted teeth as we descended a set of stairs toward an iron gate. “We’re almost through to the sewers.”

But as we approached it, he abruptly paused. “What the…” He reached out to jostle it—and we all jumped as he slammed a fist against it, the metallic crash echoing off the empty stone. “It’s been barred from the other side!” The ashy pallor of his face had turned scarlet, and a vein at the center of his forehead bulged. “This is trap!”

“There’s got to be something.” Baurus scanned the room, but I didn’t miss the way he and Glenroy both drew closer to the Emperor, and for the briefest of moments, I almost wished I was back in my cell. Almost. “What about that side passage?” He pointed to the opposite wall, and Glenroy grunted, giving the gate a final savage kick.

“Worth a try. Let’s move!” We filed through the narrow passageway, but were only met with a blank stone wall at the end.

“Now what?” Baurus muttered, glancing around the tiny chamber. Glenroy sighed, his mouth opening as though to reply, but there was a metallic clatter from the chamber behind us, and their heads both whipped toward the doorway.

“They’re behind us.” He and Baurus exchanged a terse glance before drawing their swords and charging back through the passageway.

But Baurus paused at the entrance, turning back to me. “Stay here with the Emperor,” he ordered severely, his every word deliberate. “ _Guard him with your life_.” Before I could protest, he was gone, and I was left alone with Uriel Septim. Although I was quaking with terror, he wore an eerie mask of calm as we stood silently together, listening to the clangs and shouts of the skirmish going on in the outer chamber.

Suddenly, he gave a sharp intake of breath, and I was at his side in an instant, fearing the worst. He stood frozen in place, his eyes darting around the room—but then his face slowly crumpled. “I can go no further.”

There was a brief moment when I thought I saw something akin to grief flicker across his face, but if so, it quickly hardened into a cold mask of resolution. “Listen to me,” he said urgently, his hands fumbling with the heavy chain of the amulet hanging from his neck. “You alone must stand against the Prince of Destruction and his mortal servants. He must not have the Amulet of Kings!”

His frantic demeanor was a drastic change from the calm he’d exhibited so far, his wide eyes shining with a wild gleam and his hands claw-like as they locked around mine. “Take the Amulet. Give it to Jauffre. He alone knows where to find my last son.”

I shrank back, but there was something smooth and heavy in my hands, and sure enough—his amulet was clutched in my grasp. I lifted my gaze back up to him, fully prepared to demand an explanation—but when I was only met with his pained expression, the words died on my tongue. His frenzy had stilled, and he offered a weary smile as he spoke, his eyes glittering beseechingly. “Find him,” he pleaded, “and close shut the jaws of Oblivion.”

There was a flicker of movement from the shadows, but before I could open my mouth in warning, there was a flash of red. I caught sight of the glint of the blade’s edge—and the Emperor let out a gasp, his eyes springing wide open and his entire body rigid. His face had gone stiff and waxy, and a sudden horror overtook me as the knowledge of what had happened set in.

He let out one final, choking breath, spraying a fine mist of blood across my face before his body sagged to the stone, revealing the shadowy figure in now-familiar armor standing behind him. I stood transfixed, numbly staring at the nightmare before me: the Emperor, lying dead in an ever-expanding pool of blood, and the assassin responsible—who had now turned his attention to me.

The assassin let out a thin, hissing chuckle as he flicked his blade, sending a spatter of blood against the wall. “You chose a bad day to take up with the cause of the Septims.” I couldn’t move as he sauntered forward, slowing advancing on me—but as he lifted his blade, something snapped in the far corners of my mind, and a feral instinct kicked in.

“ _Baurus!_ ” But even as I screamed for the Blade, I lifted my hands, the block that had plagued me earlier utterly vanished. My magicka was coursing hot through my veins, and this time, instead of weakly grasping for it, I took it by force. Miniature firestorms blossomed in the palms of my hands, and I pushed them away with all my might, blasting the flames into the blank mask of the assassin’s helm.

He screamed, staggering as he clawed at his face, and as I scrambled away, a blur of steel barreled into view behind him. The screams cut off into a garbled, agonized moan, and Baurus grimly lifted his katana once more to silence them. But they had barely broken off before he was dropping his weapon and rushing to the Emperor’s side.

“No, _no!_ ” He pressed vainly at the wound in attempt to stem the now-slowing blood flow. “Come on…” But in the end, he was left only to sag back on his heels in defeat. “Talos save us,” he murmured. “We’ve failed. _I’ve_ failed.”

I slowly pushed myself to my feet, trembling and breathless, my magicka spent. Exhaustion was creeping in now, leaving my head spinning and my limbs heavy as I shuffled to his side. “I’m sorry.” I was still numb from the shock, but there was an uncomfortable feeling suspiciously similar to guilt prickling at my consciousness, and as he lifted his head, I saw the corners of his eyes crinkling with anguish.

“The Blades are sworn to protect the Emperor, and now he and all his heirs are dead.” He shook his head.  “Dead. All of them.” He bowed his head, heaving a long sigh. “If only—”

Whatever he was about to say next was cut off as he abruptly stiffened. “Hold on a minute…” He began to tug frantically on the Emperor’s blood-sodden robes. “The Amulet!” He sat bolt upright, his eyes wide with panic. “Where’s the Amulet of Kings? It’s not on his body…”

Ah. The amulet.

It had fallen to the dusty stone, its chain still hot to the touch from my flames. I slowly bent to retrieve it, the Emperor’s final words echoing in my head. “He gave it to me.”

Baurus froze, turning to face me, and I braced myself for the onslaught of accusations. It suddenly occurred to me that perhaps it had been a mistake to draw attention to myself, or to my involvement in the Emperor’s final moments. But to my utter surprise, I saw the alarm fade from Baurus’ face, a thoughtful expression taking its place.

“Strange.” He rose to his feet. “He saw something in you. Trusted you.” He reached out, brushing a finger across the surface of the glittering gem. “They say it’s the Dragonblood. Flows through the veins of every Septim. They see more than lesser men.” His gaze flickered up to mine. “He must have given it to you for a reason. Did he say why?”

I squirmed at the note of hope creeping into his tone, and for the first time, I found myself honestly wishing I was back up in my cell. “He said it needs to be taken to Jauffre,” I told him, choosing my words carefully. The sooner this was out of my hands, the better. But instead of the desired effect, Baurus’ jaw nearly dropped, his eyes widening in astonishment.

“Jauffre?” he demanded. His stare bored into mine. “He said that? Why?”

And I remembered that even without an Emperor, the Blades had real power. I swallowed hard before continuing.  “He said there’s another son,” I admitted. “And that Jauffre knows where he is.”

Baurus was silent for a few moments. “Hmm.” He frowned. “Nothing I ever heard about, but Jauffre would be the one to know. He’s the Grandmaster of my order, although you may not think so to meet him. He lives quietly as a monk at Weynon Priory, near the city of Chorrol. That’s where you’re headed, as soon as you get out of here.” He gestured toward the passageway the assassin had appeared from. “Through that door must be the entrance to the sewers, past the locked gate. It’s a secret way out of the Imperial City. Or it was supposed to be secret,” he added bitterly.

“Hold on a minute,” I interjected. “Are you—are you honestly asking me to take it there myself?”

He frowned, seemingly surprised. “The Emperor entrusted you with it,” he said plainly. “I must honor his final wish.” His eyes narrowed. “ _You_ must honor it,” he added pointedly, and I was once again reminded of full extent of the authority the Blades wielded.

“You’re right,” I agreed faintly. An ill feeling was rising in my stomach. Oh gods, what had I gotten myself into?

“Good.” There was finality in his tone, but he seemed pleased. “The Emperor’s trust was well placed. I’ll stay here to guard his body, and make sure no one follows you.”

I nodded. Remembering the captain’s sword I still held, I lifted the strap of the scabbard over my head and handed him the weapon. He grimaced as he took it.

“Thank you for holding on to this, by the way. I’ll see that it’s given a place of honor in the halls of the Blades.” For a moment, he hesitated, staring at the sword in his hand. “You must get the Amulet to Jauffre,” he said finally, lifting his gaze back to me. “Take no chances, but proceed to Weynon Priory immediately. Got it?”

I lifted my chin, looking him square in the eye. “Got it.”

He turned away, leaning the katana against the wall and once again kneeling beside the body.

“You’d better get moving,” he muttered. “May Talos guide you.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice.

Without another word, I ducked through the doorway and disappeared into the shadows.


	2. Homecoming

_Last Seed, 3E433_

The storm that had begun brewing overnight had rolled in by the time I was running toward the faint light at the end of the sewer tunnel. Although the bolt was stiff with a thick layer of rust, it was not locked, and my shaking hands finally managed to jam it open, leaving me free to step out into the light of day. I gasped, filling my lungs with clean air for the first time in months, and as I stumbled forward and fell to my knees by the edge of the lake, I wasn't sure if it was rain or tears rushing down my face.

What had just _happened?_ Mere hours ago, I'd been in my cell, just a night like any other, and now… Now, I'd come face to face with one of the most powerful individuals in Tamriel, experienced not one but _two_ close brushes with death, witnessed an assassination, and been handed a priceless artifact and press ganged into the Empire's service. I tried to stifle my sobs, but the tears were falling too fast now, and in the end, all I could do was let it out. And when I was finally done, I sagged back on my heels and surveyed my surroundings.

Through the haze of rain on the lake, I could just make out the faint outline of Ayleid ruins on the opposite shore, which meant I was still on the City Isle—probably. The glimpse over my shoulder of White Gold Tower looming above the trees seemed to confirm that, although I had no idea _where_ on the island. The prison was on the north side of the city, but the tunnels we'd passed through could have led anywhere—and with the sun hidden behind a thick veil of stormclouds, I didn't have much hope of figuring it out.

But none of that made a bit of difference if I didn't know where I was going. I slowly rose to my feet, still struggling to breathe normally. Chorrol—that was where the Grandmaster of the Blades made his home, and that was where Baurus—where the Emperor—had sent me. But the thought of facing someone of his importance, not to mention explaining who I was and how I'd gotten hold of the Emperor's amulet left me quivering in my tracks. Chorrol was far, too—how on Nirn was I supposed to get there?

There was something else, though—that despite the horrors of the past several hours, I was _free_. Yesterday, I'd believed that I'd never again stand in the sun, yet here I was, with no walls or bars or guards to stop me. Emboldened by that knowledge, my inner turmoil faded somewhat, and I breathed a little easier.

As I stood contemplating my current situation, I began to eye the lake nervously. I was filthy—I hadn't had a decent bath since before I'd been placed in prison, and after my mad dash through the sewers, my feet and ankles were caked with a substance I didn't even want to think about. And there was the blood. Every inch of me had been drenched with it: my own blood, blood of assassins, blood of kings—of dragons, if Baurus' words held any truth. But as I tentatively waded in, it all washed away the same, watery rust-brown rivulets coursing down my arms and disappearing into the lake.

I didn't dare go past knee-deep—growing up, we were land-locked, and I had never learned how to swim—but it was a relief to scrub months' worth of grime from my skin and hair. The shock of the cold water also cleared my head, and as I struggled with the stains on my tunic, a plan began to form.

Before I was going anywhere, I was going home. I hadn't seen my mother since the day I'd been dragged away, and she'd no doubt made herself sick with grief and worry at this point. But that wasn't all there was to it. I also needed to explain to her what had happened, why they'd taken me. I had no idea what they'd told her, and I couldn't expect her to understand. She needed answers—and I needed my mother. The Grandmaster of the Blades could wait a few more days to have his precious necklace back.

Satisfied, I dragged myself from the lake, wringing as much water I could from my clothing as I squinted up at the sky. There was still no sign of the sun, but one way or the other, I'd eventually make it to the mainland. Taking a deep breath, I chose my direction—and began walking.

* * *

As it turned out, my chosen course brought me around the northern side of the island. The city walls themselves loomed in the distance, concealing the noise and bustle within, but out here, it was quiet, with nothing but farmlands and wilderness and not a soul in sight. As the hours passed, my feet began to ache and my stomach growled in protest. Months of inactivity had also left me weak, and I was growing short of breath, even though the stretch of land I was currently trekking across was a fairly flat, even path cutting through a stand of trees. I was grateful for the rain, though—although it left everything sodden and slippery, it had brought in a cool front. I couldn't imagine how bad it'd be trudging along in the blazing heat.

It was dark when I caught sight of a small cluster of buildings in the distance, lit up by the flicking light of torches. The illumination also revealed another structure down the hill, and I slowed to a halt as I recognized the primary bridge to the mainland. It was clear this was as far as I was going to get today, but my heart quickened as I realize my journey had just become far more difficult. I didn't know what Baurus might have told any authorities—or if anyone had even found him in the first place—but for all I knew, the guard could be on the lookout for an escaped prisoner.

The stables appeared quiet as I crept closer, only a few horses shifting nervously as I approached. It was a risk, but I was shivering in my wet clothing, and I was dead tired, dangerously close to collapsing where I stood and desperate for shelter.

I climbed through the fence rails and slunk across the yard, breathing a sigh of relief as I darted under the overhanging roof. There were several bales of hay stacked in the corner, and I managed to ease my way behind them, settling down in the little nook between the stack and the wall. It was cramped, but at least it was dry, with the rain tapping out a soothing rhythm on the roof above and the familiar horsey smells. And despite the hunger and soreness, I was soon lulled into a dreamless sleep.

It was some time later that I was awoken by the sound of voices, and I immediately froze, fearing I'd been discovered. “Not _that_ one,” someone snapped. “The _other_ bay. No, the other one! Right there in the corner!” I relaxed as I realized it was only the stablehands going about their daily business, but I was still mildly irked as I readjusted my position, sitting up to wrap my arms around my knees. Every inch of my body was in pain, my clothes were _still_ damp, and now I'd have to wait until the activity died down to make my escape. Leaning my head against the wall, I settled in, listening as the bustle slowly drifted from inside the stable out into the yard.

Presently, the voices came closer again, and I shrank back into the shadows. “Damn her to Oblivion and back,” the voice spat sourly. “We're not equipped to handle this. How's it our problem if she decides to buy out every store in the city?”

“Just get them hitched up,” a second voice sighed wearily. “Nothing we can do now. It'll be fine.”

“How is losing an entire team 'fine?'” the other protested. “Divines know if anything happens to the others, we're done for.”

“It's only for one trip,” the second interjected firmly. “Brielus is headed to Leyawiin, too. I'll send word and he'll bring them along when he comes back. Just tell Restita to start getting the crates loaded, and for the love of the Nine, keep your mouth shut in front of the Countess.”

As the voices faded back out to the yard, I slowly hauled myself from, my nest of hay, ignoring my protesting body. Creeping forward, I peered around the corner out into the yard, where the stablehands were loading a towering stack of crates onto a cart, while a well-dressed woman stood by supervising, occasionally waving her arms and shouting.

I ducked back around the corner, my mind racing as a new plan occurred to me. A noblewoman traveling to Leyawiin would surely stop in every major city she could—which meant Bravil should be right along the way. And if she'd hired an extra cart solely for her luggage…

Leaning out around the corner once more, I saw the noblewoman had exited the yard, and both the workers were headed for the low building that served as the stable's headquarters. This was my chance, then. Before I could talk myself out of it, I took a deep breath and dashed across the yard, planting my hands on the end of the cart to vault myself inside.

I managed to slither forward between the crates, tucking myself into a narrow gap between them and settling in to wait. Within minutes, however, my limbs were falling asleep and my back was beginning to cramp. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all. But before I could edge myself back out or even readjust my position, I once more heard the sound of voices, and then the cart jolted as it began to move forward. Too late now. I was on my way home.

* * *

I was no stranger to disastrous mistakes—my current situation was proof of that, but within the hour, I’d begun to realize that this particular one very well might be at the top of that list. It was stiflingly hot beneath the canvas covering the cart, and I wasn’t sure which I was more desperate for—water or air. And with every bump and turn in the road, the crates were shifting around precariously, threatening to crush me against the side of the cart. I was wilting further with each passing moment, and although I resolved to make a mad dash for it the moment the cart stopped, when it finally did so, I found myself paralyzed with indecision.

I’d half-crawled out from under the canvas, gulping in deep breaths of fresh air, when I noticed White Gold Tower rising above the trees across the lake. We’d come far—farther than I would have made it on foot. Would it really be worth it to try and make it alone? I had no money, I reminded myself, for food or for shelter. And the roads were filled with bandits and wild animals.

But before I could convince myself to throw caution to the wind, I heard the sound of footsteps, forcing me to retreat beneath the canvas once more. I was truly stuck now, and I was fighting back tears of frustration as the cart began to lurch forward once more.

The light piercing through the canvas’ gaps along the cart’s edge gradually faded as the afternoon wore on, but never quickly enough. And by the time we finally stopped, there was only pitch blackness, the light replaced by the sound of singing crickets. I could hear the bustle around me as the horses were unhitched and settled for the night, and I managed to contain myself until the voices outside had faded to a low distant murmur—and the I bolted.

Or rather, I _wanted_ to bolt, but as the blood flowed back into my sleeping legs, a stinging pain shot through them and they gave out, sending me falling hard onto the stone road. I managed to drag myself to my feet, though, stumbling across the road straight for the lake. The moonlight glistened off the surface of the water, cool and inviting, and I plunged straight in. My stiff, aching knees sank into the soft silt, and I settled back onto my heels as I cupped my hands to drink. Within minutes, I was feeling better, but there was still the issue of food—and that I’d have to crawl back into the cart soaking wet.

I stood, sending a fresh wave of ripples across the surface as I turned to face the shore. We’d stopped in a small town, it seemed—but hopefully, it was large enough that the presence of a stranger wandering through the streets in the dead of night wouldn’t draw too much attention. Because a solution had occurred to me, and although it was terrible, it was my best option, considering the circumstances. Wringing the worst of the water from my clothes, I waded back to shore, inwardly begging forgiveness for what I was about to do.

When I crawled back into the cart, the stars were beginning to dim on the eastern horizon, and I had new—albeit ill-fitting—clothes, permanently borrowed from an unattended clothesline. The shirt was too big, hanging down nearly to my knees and swallowing my hands, but the pants strained at the seams as I crawled back into the cart, not mention they stopped a good six inches above my ankles. Anything that didn’t reek of the sewers, however, was a welcome relief—and would greatly decrease my chances of discovery. My old clothes had been discarded, bundled together around a rock and tossed out into the lake. Hopefully, if anyone were to discover a decaying prisoner’s uniform in the future, I would be long gone, with nothing to tie me to this place.

I had a full belly as well, thanks to a vegetable garden I’d encountered on the river’s edge. I’d probably ingested more dirt than actual food, but I’d been ravenous, and it’d felt good just to have something in my stomach. But as I lay down between the crates once more, I found myself plagued by guilt. I’d never stolen anything before in my life—my mother had raised me better than to be a thief. But then again, my mother had raised me better than a lot of things, and the familiar ache returned to my chest. I had to see her. I had to explain. _Soon,_ I promised myself as I finally began to drift off. _Only a few more days, then I’ll be home. Then I’ll make it right._

* * *

The rest of the journey was painfully slow as it passed, but finally, there came a warm, muggy evening when the cart rolled to a stop, and the driver called out to his companions that we had arrived in Bravil. As was my habit, I nervously waited for the noises outside to die down before daring to lift the flap of the canvas and peer out. The stableyard was dark, with only a few untethered horses roaming about. Over near the stable itself, however, I could see the faint flicker of torchlight, accompanied by the murmur of voices. Deciding not to take my chances, I instead scurried the other way when I slid from the wagon that final time, heading for the fence lining the dark edge of the road. Climbing over, I jogged along the tree-shaded stretch, terrified of losing my footing in the darkness. But soon enough I was rounding the bend leading to the stables—with the city rising up out of the dark behind it.

From the moment my foot touched the bridge, my heart began to beat even more furiously. There was a very real chance that I could be discovered here—what would I do if the guard recognized me? Turn and run? Could I make it across the bridge and into the forest before he caught up with me? My stolen shirt was sticking to the back of my neck, and it wasn’t just the muggy night air. This could all be over in a second.

For a moment, my stride nearly wavered, and I was tempted to turn and sprint back the way I’d come. But the guard barely gave me a second glance, and I slid past him into the city unnoticed.

Bravil’s sad, muddy streets were as dismal as ever, but I scarcely noticed as I skulked along their edge. If I’d made it past the gates unhindered, it was unlikely that I’d be stopped now, but I kept my head down just the same on the off chance that someone from my old life would spot me.

Still, there was a new spring to my step as I hurried along, fighting to keep from breaking into a run. I was close now—so close. My house was in sight just up ahead, and my restraint fell away entirely as I raced forward. I’d despised the second-story apartment from the moment I’d first seen it, but sometime in the past several months, it had become longed-for haven. But as I reached the stairs, I paused. Something wasn’t right.

My mother loved flowers. Back in Valenwood, she’d had an enormous garden where she’d spent most of her time. Here in Bravil, there was no room, and so she grew her flowers in planters and lined the steps with them. However, they were currently bare, and I choked back the guilt as I bounded up them. My mother would take on the Legion, the Fighters Guild, and the entire damned Dark Brotherhood before she’d let anything keep her from her precious plants. I could only imagine the state she must be in to have abandoned them entirely.

I nearly reached for my key on instinct as I reached the top of the stairs, but I paused as I lifted my hand to knock, suddenly nervous. Would she be pleased to see me? Or angry? What if she dragged me straight back to the Bravil dungeons herself? Would she even believe my strange tale?

My heart fluttered as I finally gathered the courage—three short raps in quick succession—and only raced faster when no one came to let me in. The windows were dark, I noted, even though no one in my family ever went to bed this early. I had never been more painfully aware of the havoc I’d unleashed on then. My hands were shaking as I reached out to knock again—heavier, more frantic this time.

There was still no response, and as the torch of a passing guard flickered down on the street below, I pressed myself closer to the shadows, beating on the door now. I didn’t like being out in the open like this, especially not on my own doorstep. Home was the most dangerous place for me to be right now—people knew me here. All it would take would be for a single neighbor to see me—and I’d be right back in the dungeons.

I’d almost decided to head back and hide out in the stables until morning when I heard it, the echo of footsteps on the other side. My breath hitched, and the door swung open, spilling a crack of yellow light out into the darkness. I drew in a steadying breath as I prepared to blurt out my explanation—only to come face to face with a furious woman—a woman who was not my mother.

“Young lady, it’s nearly midnight,” she snarled. “What is the meaning of this? Who are you? Why are you on my doorstep?”

I blinked, taken aback, but as I recovered, a burst of fury spurt through my veins. “I could ask you the same thing,” I snapped back, my hands balling into fists as I stepped forward. “What are you doing in my house? Where’s my mother?”

A quiet warning in the back of my mind urged me to be careful, but I moved to shove the intruder out of the way regardless—only to be met with a surge of pain. I howled, clutching my injured fingers as I stumbled back, and the intruder slightly cracked open the door she’d just slammed on my hand.

“Not another step!” she barked. “Now get away from my door, or I’m calling the guards!” Even through the haze of shock and pain that surrounded me, her warning set off alarm bells in my head. It was clear that my family was not here—and I’d already drawn more than enough attention. And so I did the only thing I could in such a situation—I ran.

Down the stairs and back out onto the street, stumbling along in the dark as I dodged debris and the occasional passerby. I had no destination in mind—after all, I had nowhere to go—but somehow, I found myself down on the docks, where I finally allowed myself to break, slumping forward to catch my breath in between sobs.

My heart and mind were racing, and a horrible sick feeling was blossoming in the pit of my stomach. Oh Divines, what had happened to them? Had they somehow been imprisoned as a result of my crimes? Or were they even still alive? The thought sent bile surging up from my stomach, and I stumbled forward to spill it into the canal. And when my heaves subsided, I stepped back, sinking down to kneel on the filthy dock.

Think! I ordered myself. They didn’t just disappear. So what happened to them?

 _The graveyard_. Somehow, some part of me was still capable of logic. _If they were dead, they’d be in the graveyard. So check there first._

The thought was almost too terrible to bear, and I felt my breathing begin to elevate again. But I clenched my jaw, pressing my fists to my eyes as the tears once again began to spill over. I would not cry, I told myself sternly as I pushed myself to my feet, standing on wobbly legs as I wiped the slime from the docks on my stolen pants. Not until I knew whether I had something to cry about.

* * *

The walk over to the graveyard was a fairly quick one, but as I approached the church, my apprehension began to return. I hung back in the shadow of a building across the street, warily eying my destination. Here was yet another location where someone might easily recognize me—the priests and priestesses of Mara provided education for local children, and my mother had dragged me and my brother here every Sundas. My one saving grace, however, was the late hour, and so before I could lose my nerve, I scurried forward across the street. Vaulting over the rotting fence to the graveyard, I sank down into the weeds, my heart thundering away.

When my breathing returned to normal, I began my walk through the tombstones. Most were impossible to read, crumbling and moldy thanks to Bravil’s lovely climate. It was just as well though—I was was looking for recent ones. And I did find some—but they did not bear my family’s names.

I should have felt relief, and I _did_ —but there was something else beneath it, an unidentifiable emotion that was rapidly evolving into a sense of panic. I had to fix the mess I’d made, I _had_ to. But I couldn’t do anything about it until I found them, and the question still remained— _where were they?_

I jumped as the bell tower above began to ring, twelve strokes for midnight. There was nothing more I’d be able to do at this hour, and so I dejectedly resigned myself to the fact that I’d have to wait out the night and resume my search in the morning.

* * *

 Bravil was home to a number of seedy taverns frequented by even seedier individuals, and so the sight of a lone ragged girl drew no attention as I slipped through the door of one such establishment. I found my way to a vacant corner table, where I settled in to begin my wait as I nursed my injured fingers. They were swollen, and I could already see lines of bruising across them, but I could still move them. At least there was that. Healing magic was not my strong suit, but I knew a simple spell. A brief incantation, a ripple of power, and the pain dulled slightly, although the bruises remained. With any luck, I had repaired the worst of the damage, and the rest should be able to heal on its own.

The spell had drained me, and despite the raucous uproar of the other patrons, I found myself drifting in and out of a restless doze throughout the night, nodding off and jerking awake whenever my chin hit my chest. And when dawn finally crept through the window, I rose on stiff legs and headed outside. The next phase of my plan had come to me during the night—checking with the Fighters Guild, where my mother had worked as a clerk ever since we’d first arrived in Bravil. There’d surely be someone there who knew something—but they likely wouldn’t recognize me.

It was quiet as I entered, with no shouts or clanging metal to greet me—a far cry from the last time I’d been here. The silence was almost eerie, and I felt gooseflesh rising on my arms as I tiptoed across the main room. “Hello?” I called uncertainly. I jumped at the sound of a throat being cleared, and I turned to see a young Breton peering around the corner.

“Can I help you?” he asked dully.

“Yes.” I took a hesitant half-step toward him. “I’m looking for someone who...who works here. A Bosmer woman, tall, dark hair?”

At my words, his eyes widened. “Oh, Talos, do you mean Hasathil?” he groaned. “Come look at this.” He led me to a back room where a desk sat, threatened to be buried under the massive stacks of parchment littering it. “You see all this?” He gestured toward it wildly. “This is what I’ve been dealing with since she left.” He slumped against the wall, massaging his temples. “I’m only an apprentice, so I get stuck with the jobs no one else wants. Washing dishes, scrubbing floors, and now this.” He shook his head. “I’m a _fighter_. I don’t _do_ bookkeeping.”

“So...where did she go?” I asked slowly, praying he wouldn’t notice my nails digging into my palms.

“How am I supposed to know?” He threw up his hands helplessly. “One day all’s well, the next Tadrose says employing her would reflect badly on the guild and she’s got to go. Last I heard she and her son left the city.”

I didn’t need to ask why my mother’s presence would affect the guild’s reputation. Tears were welling up in the corners of my eyes, and any moment they’d be spilling over. It was time for a quick exit.

“Thank you,” I whispered shakily, but as I tried to slip past him, he grabbed hold of my arm.

“Hold up, don’t let my complaining get to you. You needed something, right?” Luckily, I had my lie prepared.

“Yeah, I did some work for you back in...Sun’s Dawn? No, maybe Sun’s Dusk?” I pursed my lips and frowned, pretending to think hard. “Anyhow, I was looking through my old contracts and I’m a few septims short. I just want to make sure I was paid the full amount.”

Even in the faint early-morning light, I could see his face turn grey, and I almost felt guilty. Almost. “I...can certainly help you with that,” he said faintly. “What was your name?”

“Lily.” A common enough name—if he looked through the records, there’d likely be dozens of Lilys.

“All right, Lily,” he was saying. “Let me just take a look at the invoices...Sun’s Dawn, you said?”

“I’m not sure.”

“All right,” he said, rifling through the papers. “All right. I put them just over here, I’m sure of it…”

“I can come back,” I offered.

Relief washed over his face as he glanced up. “Thank you.”

And so I fled back out onto the street, my heart heavier than ever. I wandered through the streets for a while before settling on the steps of a nearby shop, where I struggled to keep from breaking in tears. During the months in prison, the past had seemed so far away, and part of me had started to believe it truly _was_ past. But here, in my home city where it had all taken place, it was too real. It was too much.

 _Mother, I’m sorry_ , I silently pleaded. _I’m so sorry for everything_. Wherever they had gone, I hoped they found a new beginning and were happy, but the fact remained that I was on my own now. My old life was gone, there was no going back to it. It was time to put the girl I had been out of mind. From now on, there was only Lily.


	3. Desperate Times

_Hearthfire, 3E433_

I was turning over a new leaf. I was learning from my mistakes. I was going to make the best of my situation and start fresh. A worthy plan—but one that would count for nothing unless I could get myself out of Bravil.

The city had seemed massive when I’d first arrived all those years ago, but now, with my past breathing down my neck it was far too small for my liking. It was only a matter of time until I ran into someone I knew, and questions would follow, attention would be drawn, and from there I’d find myself right back in prison. So there was no other option—I had to leave. But there was a single insurmountable obstacle in my way—namely my lack of funds.

I’d gotten lucky with the noble lady’s extra cart, and I knew it was highly unlikely that such an opportunity would present itself again. Carriage fares were expensive, and in the meantime, I needed food and a roof over my head. But this was Bravil, and here, opportunities were even more rare than free transportation.

It didn’t help that I had minimal skills. I’d been nearing the end, but I hadn’t finished my basic education when I’d been arrested, and my only other experience had been a small clerical job at a magic shop. But there was no going back to either without revealing my identity, and I didn’t know where else to begin.

So instead, I focused on staying out of sight. I’d wander the city throughout the day, never staying in one place for too long, and immediately ducking into the nearest alleyway if I caught so much as distant glimpse of a guard. At night, I’d return to the inn I’d stayed at my first night back in Bravil—there was usually a vacant table, and, it seemed, if you weren’t starting a fight, the proprietors would leave you alone.

The other upside to this was the girl who served drinks—Selene, I’d learned her name was, after hearing the barkeep constantly screaming at her. She had a habit of disappearing throughout the night (hence the barkeep’s screaming), and the patrons had a habit of leaving food on their plates, which meant I could wander past and grab what was left before she’d return for the dishes. There was a reason so much was left behind, of course, and if I were the barkeep I’d be angrier at the cook than at Selene. But I was keeping myself fed, and so I had no right to complain.

But of course, there came the night when I snatched a hunk of venison off a plate and instantly heard a voice ring out from behind me. “Just _what_ do you think you’re doing?”

Had I any sense at all, I would have fled immediately. But caught off guard, I froze, and a hand grabbed my arm and spun me around to face my captor. Although she was at least a head shorter than me, Selene’s stance was imposing as she stared me down. “Helping yourself, hmm?” she asked sharply. “I’ve seen you in here before. You’ve never spent so much as a septim.” Her eyes narrowed, and my heart sped up.

“I’ll leave,” I said quickly. I had nowhere else to go, of course, but it was the first thing I could think of to appease her. But she only glared at me.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” She smirked. “I ought to call the guards.”

That should have been my cue to run, but I was exhausted, starving, and frightened, and her threat only sent a surge of rage racing through me. “Do it,” I snapped. “So your boss can ask where _you_ were when it was happening.”

But her face only darkened. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” she hissed, but she was thoughtfully pursing her lips. “Tell you what,” she said, scooping up an armload of dishes from the table and thrusting them in my direction. “Cover for me, and I won’t say a word.”

“You’re giving me a job?” I questioned skeptically, but she laughed.

“No. I’m making you a deal. You step in when I need a moment, and you can take whatever your little heart desires from the empties.”

I frowned. “Will you boss agree to it?”

“Trust me.” She rolled her eyes. “Bogrum doesn’t care as long as the drinks get served. Now do we have a deal or not?”

It was clearly blackmail, and I had serious reservations about essentially agreeing to work for free. But I was at least guaranteeing I’d stay fed—and out of prison. Slowly, I reached out to take the stack of dishes.

Instantly, her entire demeanor changed. “Thank you!” she sang cheerfully before sweeping out of the room, leaving me there with an armload of dirty plates and no idea what to do next.

I headed for the counter, making my way along the side to slip behind it. Maybe there’d be someone I could ask? But there was a table, already full of towering stacks, and I carefully slid them over to set my load down.

“There you are!” someone snapped, and I turned to see an Orc glaring at me. “The back table’s been waiting!” He thrust two mugs in my direction—then did a double take. “Who are you?”

I did my best to past on my brightest smile. “I’m Lily—filling in for Selene?” He eyed me suspiciously for a moment, then relaxed.

“Hmph.” And he handed me the mugs without another word and turned back to a patron.

I blinked. Well. That had been easy enough. But I had to visit just about every single table before I found the correct one—and by that point, the barkeep was screaming for Lily.

It felt like an eternity before Selene returned, allowing me to skulk back to my table and put my head down. And then it only felt like minutes before she was back, kicking the legs of my chair and urging me to once again take her place.

This became my nightly pattern, and soon I took to napping in the graveyard during the day. I knew I was putting myself at risk, and if a guard would happen along and see me I’d be done for. But the likelihood of an extensive sweep through the graveyard seemed slim, and I needed sleep. Exhaustion shadowed my every waking moment, and I could feel the fear beginning to set in. The longer I stayed in Bravil, the more discovery became inevitable. What was I going to do?

* * *

Then came the afternoon I sat watching the nearby market stalls while I waited for Selene’s shift to start. It was slow, with only a few shoppers looking over the wares or speaking with the merchants, and perhaps that was why the lone individual out of the ordinary stood out to me. An Argonian skulked along the edge of the marketplace, focused more on the other shoppers than on the goods. I narrowed my eyes, watching as she stole along the edge of a baker’s stand--and as they shouted to their children rough-housing nearby, she quickly swiped a small loaf from the edge of the stand.

I plastered myself further back into the shadows, my fascination growing as she made her way through the market. Due to the angle I was at, I couldn’t actually see for _certain_ , but she stopped at several other stalls, yet didn’t appear to be making any transactions.

She was headed back in my direction now, and I watching in awe as she plowed into another shopper, apologized loudly, and quickly shuffled away, stuffing something into her pocket as she did so.

I was on my feet before I realized it, hurrying after her as she left the marketplace. Halfway across the square, though, I hesitated, thinking about what I was doing. It certainly had _looked_ like she’d stolen the bread--and more, possibly even a coinpurse—but running after a stranger accusing them of thievery was hardly a smart move, especially when I was supposed to be laying low.

So I hung back, watching as she disappeared into an alleyway. But my curiosity had been piqued, and I resolved to keep an eye out for her in the future.

Habits were a dangerous thing for me right now, but I still found myself returning to the market daily, in hopes of seeing the Argonian again. The first few days turned up nothing, but one afternoon, I spotted her again. And this time, I followed her.

It was busier today, and I wandered into the crowd as she made her way from stall to stall. This time, I noticed, she had _two_ ‘accidents,’ nearly knocking people down, then apologizing profusely as she picked up their packages or helped them right themselves. Maybe she was just clumsy, part of me argued, or maybe she just liked to window shop—but put it all together and it seemed to be proof of _something_ —didn’t it?

I continued to follow her as she left the market, over the bridge and across town. Once or twice, I could have sworn I saw her glance over her shoulder and look directly at me, and I’d immediately slow my pace and look away. Did she know I was following her? She couldn’t, I’d stayed far enough out of her way—hadn’t I?

Finally she turned down a street not too far from where I’d once lived, and began climbing the outer stairs of one of the buildings. I stayed down on the street, but I slowed my pace to a crawl, sneaking glances up as I followed her progress along the upper walkway and into an apartment.

I stood in the middle of the street, squinting up at it as I memorized the location. For one wild moment, I was tempted to climb the stairs myself and knock on the door. But what would I say? _I think I saw you stealing in the marketplace? Can you teach me?_ I scoffed to myself. Besides, it was getting late, and Selene’s shift would be starting soon. Turning in the direction I’d come, I headed back down the street. I didn’t know what good my newfound knowledge would be, but I had to believe it would count for something. Because right now, it was the only scrap of hope I had.

“You’re late,” Selene snapped the moment I walked through the door. “Hurry up, we’re busy tonight.”

“Already?” I protested. “Didn’t you just get here?”

But Selene was already halfway out the door. “Better not keep Bogrum waiting,” she called over her shoulder.

I sighed as I made my way through throng of patrons. It was unusually crowded tonight, I noted, but I was too preoccupied to think much on it. This was starting to get ridiculous—at this point, Selene wasn’t even working half of her shifts, while I had yet to see a single septim. Would I be stuck buying her silence forever?

“You’re late,” Bogrum also growled as I slipped behind the counter.

“Tell that to Selene!” I protested.

“You’re here. She isn’t,” he said pointedly. “And we’ve got thirsty customers.”

Grumbling to myself, I picked up the drinks and left. It was going to be a long night.

Hours passed, but Selene didn’t return. My knees were already aching, my feet had been tromped on, I’d been elbowed in the face, and so much ale had been spilled on me I smelled like a brewery.

“Come on!” Bogrum roared as I returned to the bar. “We got customers waiting. What’s taking so long?”

I didn’t answer, fighting back tears as I set down a stack of dishes and reached for a new round of drinks. But they were slippery with spilled ale, and as I looked on in horror, they slipped from my grasp, falling in slow motion to shatter on the floor, sending a wave of ale washing across it.

“Dammit!” Bogrum was beside me in an instant as I crouched beside the shattered fragments. “Clean this up.” He hurled a rag down beside me. “And I hope you know this is coming out of your pay.”

An empty threat, considering I didn’t actually _get_ any pay. In a way, it was almost funny—but I wasn’t laughing. Rolling my eyes, I mopped up the rest of the ale, and went to retrieve a broom for the shards of ceramic littering the floor. And naturally, by the time I returned, the countertop was covered in undelivered drinks.

But as I headed back out into the crowd, I caught sight of Selene slipping back through the door. I’d never been so happy to see her, and I wordlessly handed the drinks off to her as she approached. “Hey, where are these going?” she called, but I didn’t respond as I slipped off into the crowd. My usual table was taken, but I settled on the bottom step of the flight leading upstairs, wrapping my arms around my knees. It felt good to get off my feet—even if Selene would soon be back.

And sure enough, only minutes had passed before she was there in front of me again. I opened my mouth to protest, but my words were cut off as she savagely kicked me in the ankle.

“Ow!” I gasped out. “What was _that_ for?”

“You dropped a whole tray of drinks?” She glared down at me, murder in her eyes “Bogrum’s taking it out of my pay now. Thanks for that. I hope you know you owe me.”

“Selene, you can’t be serious! Where am I supposed to get the money?”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. Figure it out. Or I might just end up having a conversation with the guards.” And then she swept off, leaving me behind in stunned silence.

My chest suddenly felt tight, and I pushed up from the steps, pushing my way through the crowd toward the door. The air was too close in here, and I felt as though I’d pass out if I spent another second in this room.

The night air was humid and dank, but I eagerly gulped it in as I stumbled out the door. Tears were already rolling down my face, and as I slumped onto the bench on the porch, I buried my face in my hands and began to sob.

This was all too much. I couldn’t get out of Bravil unless I stopped letting Selene blackmail me—but if I did, she’d call the guards and then I’d _never_ leave. No matter what I did, I was trapped. All roads led to the same destination—and at this point, all I could do was try to figure out which was the path of least resistance.

“So you’re the one who’s been following me.”

An unfamiliar voice floated up out of the darkness, and I froze mid-sob. Lifting my head, I saw an Argonian step forward from the shadows—and the recognition was instantaneous.

My face must have betrayed me, as she gave a short, hissing laugh as she climbed the steps. “That’s what I thought. May I sit?” She didn’t wait for a response as she sank down onto the bench beside me.

I couldn’t speak—I was far too mortified. Here I was, thinking I’d been so secretive, and she’d known I was there the whole time—even managed to track _me_ down. And then another horrible thought came to my head—if I stood out so much to a complete stranger, who else around town might have noticed me over the past few weeks?

“So.” The Argonian cleared her throat. “I’m guessing there’s a reason you’ve been following me?”

“I...I thought…” I scrambled for the words, but they wouldn’t come to me. “I thought I saw something. Guess I was wrong.”

“Something, hmm?” The Argonian sounded faintly amused, and I felt a jolt of suspicion.

“How did you find me, anyhow?”

“I could ask you the same question.” She clearly wasn’t giving anything up, and I sensed my half-hearted attempt to turn the tables had failed. “Someone spends days watching you, even goes through the trouble to find out where you live, and you know they mean serious business. So. I ask you again. Why have you been following me?”

“I thought I saw you steal from the market.” The words came out in a rush, and I was eternally grateful for the darkness, knowing my face had to be bright red.

“And you thought, what? Perhaps you would gather evidence, go to the guards?”

“No!” My mind immediately flew to my own predicament. “No, I would _never!_ ”

“Then _what?_ ”

Perhaps the thought should have occurred to me immediately in the conversation rather than just now, but what if I was right—and what if she was dangerous? I swallowed hard.

“I wanted you to teach me.” When she didn’t reply, I dared a glance at her, and saw her staring at me with narrowed eyes.

“Hmm.” She tapped her nails against the bench. “So you are not a thief, but wish to be one. And so you saw what you wanted to see, jumped to conclusions, and nearly accused an innocent woman.”

“That’s not it, I…” She made it sound like a career goal—and like I was some kind of moronic villain. I could feel myself starting to cry again, and I quickly looked down into my lap. “It’s not like that!”

“Oh?” She let out a low chuckle. “Then do, enlighten me.” When I didn’t reply, she sighed. “I cannot teach you what you wish to know,” she said finally. “I’m a simple citizen trying to live my days in peace.”

I should apologize, but the words stuck in my throat. I had never felt more stupid.

“But,” she continued, “if a capable young person fallen on hard times were to come to me and ask for advice, I would tell them to visit the Waterfront District of the Imperial City. Find the Garden of Dareloth at midnight, and then ask your questions.”

I frowned, turning to her, but she had already stood and was halfway down the steps.

“Oh, and one more thing.” She paused, turning back to me, and I shivered at the dangerous glower she wore, made all the more sinister by the dim, flickering lamplight. “Come to my house again, and it will be the last mistake you ever make. Understood?”

I nodded frantically, and she seemed pleased. “Good. Then we have an agreement.” She lifted a clawed hand. “Farewell.” And she melted back into the darkness she’d come from, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

My head was spinning with it all, but first and foremost I felt shame. Partly because I’d stalked a stranger across the city—and partly because I’d been so painfully _obvious_ about it. But it was then that I noticed something on the bench where she’d been sitting. My fingers closed around a leather pouch, and I lifted my head to call out after her. But she was gone—and then I heard the faint jingle from the pouch.

Carefully untying the strings, I tugged it open to see the glitter of coin shining out at me. My breath caught in my throat, and I immediately yanked it shut. Scrambling to my feet, I rushed away from the inn, to the stairs leading down to the docks.

I couldn’t believe it been left there by accident. Not after our conversation. The question remained, why? Why would a stranger want to help me--not to mention one I’d inadvertently threatened?

But did it really matter? I was saved! The one thing standing in my way had been a lack of coin, and now I held my liberation in the palm of my hand. I could finally leave Bravil. Now I only needed to decide where I’d go.

 _Chorrol_ , a quiet part of me whispered. _Go to Chorrol. You promised._

There was still that matter.

The Emperor’s amulet hadn’t left my pocket since the night I’d stolen the clothes I wore. Now, I withdrew it, watching the moonlight scatter across its surface. I could feel the memories rising, and my stomach turned over on itself. With all the chaos of the past few weeks, it’d been easy to convince myself that it’d all been a dream. That I hadn’t really walked side by side with the Emperor of Tamriel—or been made the sole living witness to his death.

I was not a hero. I was not someone who should have any role in shaping the Empire. I was just a girl—a stupid, simple girl who’d made the biggest mistake of her life and would pay for it forever. I wanted to go _home_. And if I couldn’t do that, I just wanted to survive.

I tipped my hand, spilling the amulet from my grasp, but the chain was wrapped around my fingers, causing it to dangle above the floorboards of the dock. Inching a step forward--and then another, I extended my shaking arm out over the water.

It would be easy to just...let go. Let it fall and disappear into the depths. No one would be any wiser, and I could just pretend all of it had never happened.

But I could still smell the stench of death, muffled by centuries-old dust. I could see the red-robed bodies sprawled across the pale stone floor. And I could hear his voice, the earnest desperation of his words. _Find him, and close shut the jaws of oblivion._

I sighed, drawing back and stuffing the amulet deep into my pocket once more. Not yet. I’d hold onto it for now, and if I still felt the need to dispose of it in the future… Well, there were other ways to go about it. It may be all that stood between me and starvation come winter.

That night, I slept outside of Bravil’s wall, the most restful night I’d had in weeks. And when the poor stablemaster stepped outside his door in the morning, he nearly tripped over me. “Please,” I said, scrambling to my feet as he gripped the door frame to right himself, “how much is the fare to the Imperial City?”


	4. Desperate Measures

_Hearthfire 3E433_

I was _not_ cut out for sea travel. I discovered this less than twenty minutes after boarding a ship for the first time, when I raced to the railing to empty the contents of my stomach into Niben Bay. And the further up the Niben we sailed, the more apparent that became. I spent most of my time below deck with a bucket, but by the time we arrived, my insides had calmed enough for me to head up to the deck and take in the sight of the Imperial City as we sailed into the harbor.

After he’d recovered from his fright, the stablemaster had informed me that while yes, there would be a carriage to the Imperial City today, his brother-in-law owned a small ship and was trying to launch a business of ferrying passengers—for a fee of course, but less than a carriage would be. A few other visitors to the stables appeared to have taken him up on that offer as well, as there was a small group of us who trekked over the hill down to the water to board the ship. But if there was an upside to my seasickness, it at least kept me from having to converse with the other passengers. There was hardly anything suspicious about a young person heading to the capital to make their fortune, but I was still determined to play it safe.

At any rate, we arrived without incident, and I clung to the railing as I took in the sight before me. I’d never actually seen the city before—you couldn’t count my rain-veiled trek around the island, and _before_...before, I’d been quietly delivered, blindfolded and under the cover of darkness.

But I dug my nails into my palms as we docked. I would not think about that today. The white stone of the city was softly glowing, illuminated by the autumn sunshine. The sky beyond was a vibrant blue, and the colorful trees lining the shore were swaying in the breeze. It was a beautiful day—and it felt like a beginning.

The pier seemed to pitch and roll beneath my feet, but it was still a relief to be back on solid ground. I hugged the wall as I walked along, occasionally using it to catch myself, but the real reason for my half-hearted pace was to give myself an opportunity to figure out where I was going.

The Garden of Dareloth, the Argonian had told me—it had sounded simple enough at the time, but now, standing here at the foot of the lighthouse, I was beginning to wish I’d asked more questions. What _was_ it, anyhow? Some kind of code? Or could I look on a map and find it? If I walked into a tavern and asked the barkeep, would they have any idea what I was talking about?

I nervously chewed on the inside of my lip. I could tell I was in the way, with passersby jostling me from all sides as they swept past, but I felt rooted in place, unable to move until I at least knew where I was headed.

In the end, I gave up and simply began walking. I fell in with the traffic approaching the tunnel to the city, but instead veered off onto a well-trodden path leading along the shore. I needed to clear my head and get a chance to breathe—then figure out my next move.

Even with the sounds of the city echoing behind me, I began to feel better almost immediately. Surrounded by trees with the grass under my feet, I felt more like myself than I had in a long time, and my pounding heart began to settle. The colors of the trees were reflected in the water, and I drew closer to the shoreline to admire them. I also took note of tracks in the soft silt as well, mainly that of animals, but a few that looked like footprints

As I paused by the water’s edge, I noticed a series of ripples racing toward the shore--was there a fish out there or something? I squinted at the source, trying to catch sight of any movement below—but instead of a fish, an Argonian broke the surface.

He froze as he caught sight of me, his eyes going wide. “Oh…” His gaze seemed to be focused on something over my shoulder. “Well, this is awkward.” I frowned, turning around—and noticed the pile of discarded clothing.

I fought back a laugh. “I’ll leave you to it,” I called over my shoulder as I fled down the shoreline. From behind me, I thought I heard laughter, but I wasn’t staying to find out. If this was my introduction to the Imperial City, I was half afraid to find out what the rest of it would be like.

* * *

 

Eventually, I’d worked up the courage to head back and take on the actual city itself. The thought was daunting, but I wasn’t going to find what I’d come here for by hiding out on the isle. My one consolation, however, was that the traffic had slowed, and I could wander the streets at my leisure.

I quickly came to the conclusion that whatever I was looking for would not be found here by the piers. The only inconsistencies in the neat cobbled streets and smooth white buildings were the ships bobbing in the harbor, and their frenzied crews racing around on the docks.

But as I stepped through one of the staired alleyways at the end of a long street, I stopped short. The towering line of buildings, it turned out, was little more than a dam holding back the rot of the district. Instead of impressive stone, the buildings here were little more than shacks, comprised of wood in various stages of decay.

Many were tilting dangerously, appearing precariously close to falling over entirely. Several others appeared to have burned down, with only bare blackened skeletons remaining, and neighboring structures that remained intact covered with scorch marks. Through the buildings down by the shore, I could see fishermen perched on deteriorated, collapsing docks, their timbers bowed and sagging into the water. Debris and potholes filled the streets, and more than once I nearly twisted an ankle on the uneven paving.

Despite the seedy atmosphere, I felt almost at ease. Here, away from anyone who might recognize me, I felt far safer than I had in Bravil’s crowded streets. A small group of people hanging up laundry barely glanced twice at me, and neither did the pack of children racing past. My ragged appearance let me blend right into my surroundings, and I relished in the anonymity as I wandered along. No one knew who I was. No one knew where I’d come from or what I was doing here. For the first time in my life, I realized, I was truly free. And instead of a hastily-devised mask, Lily began to feel like _me._

There were voices all around me, a chaotic hum in the background, but through the din, I picked up on one that sounded distinctly familiar. I slowed, confused, but then it was followed by laughter, and I instantly knew where I’d heard that laugh. Darting through a break in the buildings, I stopped short as I came upon a cluster of people seated around a small fire. And sure enough, there was the Argonian from earlier among them.

My curiosity sated, I turned to slip back out into the street, but at that moment, the Argonian lifted his head. Our eyes met, and I flinched. He’d seen me.

“That’s her!” I prepared to make a run for it as he sprang to his feet, but the wide grin on his face made me hesitate. “The girl I was telling you about. Hey! You always make a habit of watching strangers bathing?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “About as often as you make a habit of doing it in public places,” I retorted.

“Ha! Fair enough.” He sauntered toward me. “But I was halfway around the island, sure you didn’t come looking for me?”

“Oh, come on, the harbor was in sight!” I protested.

“All right, Amusei, enough. Leave her alone.” One of the others seated around the fire glared up at him, but Amusei ignored him.

“Okay, so maybe you’re right—but here you are now,” he finished smugly.

Now this was just getting ridiculous. “You’re _loud_ ,” I said flatly, turning on my heel to stalk back out into the street. But to my surprise, Amusei burst into laughter behind me.

“I _am!_ Hey, wait!”

But I was already out of the alley and fleeing along the street. From now on, I resolved, I wasn’t talking to _anyone._

* * *

 

As dusk fell, I began to feel considerably less safe. In the eerie fading light, the waterfront began to appear more sinister, the buildings black against the dimmed sky. The people were changing as well—the children playing and people doing housework had disappeared, and those left seemed to all be traveling in groups and laughing a little too loudly—and carrying weapons.

It was clear I wasn’t going to find anything tonight, but despite the thief’s generous gift, staying at an inn would quickly eat away at my coin. So instead, I found myself heading down to the water’s edge.

I’d earlier spotted an abandoned pile of decaying boats, and now I made my way back to them, hoping I could rig some kind of shelter. Standing on tiptoe, I reached up and grabbed hold of the nearest one. It was _heavy_ , I realized as I tried to pull it down, planting my feet in the sand and throwing my weight back. And finally it came sliding off, and I scrambled out of the way as the beach reverberated with the thump of rotting wood on sand.

I managed to tip it on its side and prop it against the rest of the stack, leaving space for me to wriggle under. It was dark and cramped and smelled strongly of mildew, but at least it was dry—and out of sight. At this point, I wasn’t sure if my greatest fear was being killed, or being robbed.

As I lay curled in the sand, I tried to make a plan for how I’d be going about this. I had to find the Garden of Dareloth—yes—but I also needed food, and some kind of permanent shelter. There’d be no way I’d survive if I was still sleeping under a pile of boats come winter. But I was growing drowsy, and as sleep overtook me, I was no closer to solid plan than I’d been when I stepped off the dock.

When I awoke, it was with a start, and the pale light of dawn was shining in around the edges of the boat as I lay curled in the cold sand. I was horribly stiff and cramped, but the discomfort hadn’t awoken me—rather, it had been a noise, a scuffling sound coming from outside the boat. I drew my limbs up closer to my body, slowly reaching for the Blade captain’s shortsword that lay in the sand beside me—and let out a shriek as something stabbed under the edge of the boat, grazing my leg.

I slithered out from underneath, dragging the sword along with me and pulling it free of its sheath as I scrambled to my feet. And there was my assailant—a mudcrab, its enormous serrated claws waving menacingly. It scuttled along after me around the stack of boats, and I clamored atop the nearest one, yanking my foot up out of the way of one of its dangerously clacking claws.

“Get back!” I swiped at it with the sword, but missed and nearly fell off the boat in the process. As if sensing my weakness, the creature lunged forward, half climbing up the boat, and I struck again. This time, I made contact, but the flat of the blade glanced off its shell. Growling to myself, I lashed out again—and again, and again—and finally got a lucky strike on one of its legs. Wounded, it reared back, and I leapt at it. Planting a foot on its shell, I drove the blade down—and it finally went still.

I stumbled back and sat down on the beach, breathing hard as I brushed a strand of sweaty hair away from my face. _That_ had been a rude awakening if there ever was one. Were mudcrabs common around here? I frowned. I could probably rig some traps around my shelter to keep back any animals—but the downside would be that I’d draw attention from sentient creatures.

“Crab for breakfast!” As if on cue, a familiar voice rang out, and I looked up to see that infuriating Argonian from yesterday lazily floating past in the lake. I threw him a rude gesture, but he only laughed as he swam away. Rolling my eyes, I scrambled to my feet and began to brush the sand from my clothes. At this point, I honestly wasn’t sure which of the Waterfront’s inhabitants were worse.

* * *

 

Over the next few days, I made it my mission to explore each district of the city. My favorite by far was the Arboretum—in some of the more distant corners, I could step off the path, close my eyes , and almost feel like I was back home again. Talos Plaza was the wealthiest and one of the busiest, Elven Gardens was largely residential, the Arena was pure chaos, and the Temple district was of no use to anyone but the most devout—and I most certainly was not falling into that category these days. In the Market, I bought a very nice set of maps, but no matter how many times I poured over them, I couldn’t find any mention of the Garden of Dareloth. This purchase presented another problem, unfortunately, as it ate up the majority of my coin. The rest of it went quickly, and within a week of my arrival, I was back down to nothing.

I wasn’t ready to part with the amulet—not yet, at least. Something about pawning it right in the shadow of White Gold Tower seemed wrong, somehow. Besides, it was an easily recognizable piece—I’d have half the Imperial Guard on my heels if I walked into the nearest shop and tried to sell it. And so it was one afternoon that I found myself back in the Market district, contemplating stealing from a nearby stand.

I still wasn’t used to the guilt—my mother hadn’t raised a thief. The clothes I wore still laid heavy against my skin, a constant reminder of that night on my journey home. And she hadn’t raised me to be most of the things I’d become. But the one thing she _had_ raised was a survivor, and I’d already made my choice back in Bravil.

No one was looking, and the merchant was busy with a customer. I’d half made up my mind to snatch a handful of carrots and make a quick exit when an all too familiar voice rang out. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

I froze, caught, and inwardly let out a silent scream as I turned to face the culprit. “Amusei.” I forced a brittle smile to my face. “Are you here for a reason?” It wasn’t a question so much as a demand, for him to just _go away_ and leave me to do what I needed to.

But he sauntered up to me just the same, an even brighter grin on his face. “There’s a guard watching you,” he said said cheerfully, but it didn’t escape my notice that his tone considerably dropped in volume.

“What are— _oh._ ” I could feel my eyes go wide as I caught sight of him, standing just in the shadow of a pillar, arms folded over his chest. Beside me, Amusei laughed.

“No need for alarm, we’re just a couple of friends having a nice chat. Now we’re going to laugh.” He threw back his head and guffawed heartily as I scowled at him. “And then walk away. Easy as that.”

“We’re not friends,” I said shortly as I turned on my heel and stalked away. I was irritated—that I hadn’t noticed the danger, and that he was being so damn _smug_ about it.

“You don’t like me, do you?” he called after me, and I stopped short, his question taking me by surprise.

“It’s not—” I dodged a throng of shoppers, hopping out of the way and taking a few steps back. “It’s not that I don’t _like_ you. I don’t _know_ you.” I threw up my hands helplessly. “Do you see where I’m going with this?”

“But you could.” He hurried up and fell in step beside me as I turned and began walking again. “You should come see us behind the wall sometime. We’re a tight knit bunch.”

“Who’s ‘we?’” I lost sight of him for a moment as another flock of shoppers pushed between us, but he reappeared the moment they passed.

“You really are new, aren’t you?” he chuckled, and I stiffened.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He laughed again, but didn’t answer my question. “Do yourself a favor,” he said instead. “The Temple hands out food by the lighthouse on Fredas. Get there early, and be polite. Even better, throw in a sob story. And if you _have_ to steal, the grocer with the stand at the other end is rude and spends all his time chatting with the alchemist next to him.”

“I’m supposed to believe that’s actual advice?”

He gasped out as though mortally offended. “Of course it is! Amusei wouldn’t _lie_.”

Then why did I get the feeling he was mocking me? “Right,” I muttered through gritted teeth. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“See that you do!” His grin returned. “Another time, wood elf. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” And with a brief wave, he disappeared into the crowd.

But as it turned out, at least one part of his advice was sound. On Fredas, I arrived at the lighthouse early, but still found myself at the end of a long line, before I was finally handed a small sack of food—not much, but at least enough to tide me over for a few days. If I couldn’t work, I’d be frequently going hungry, but this was at least a start.

And although I was hesitant to try stealing again, I made a visit to the grocer’s stand Amusei had indicated. I didn’t dare approach, but sure enough, the merchant chattered constantly to the bored-looking alchemist beside him, argued with his customers, and yelled a group of children playing nearby. A lovely gentleman, to be certain.

But we were into Frostfall now, and I had bigger problems. Each morning I awoke shivering beneath my makeshift shelter, and I knew soon I’d need to purchase a blanket, not to mention a decent pair of shoes. And although I didn’t want to think about it yet, I’d need a fire once winter arrived. I’d all but given up on finding the Garden of Dareloth, and now I was desperate for any job I could get. I was asking all across the city—on the docks, in inns, and in shops—and nothing had turned up yet. Something still might, though; I at least had to believe it would, for the sake of my own sanity. But I could feel despair settling over me like a constant shadow, and a quiet knot of fear was blooming in the pit of my stomach. No matter how I looked at it, I was running out of time.

* * *

 

And then there arrived the evening where my job search in the Elven Gardens district had me arriving late back to the Waterfront. Darkness had fallen, and the looming shadows had me making my way through the streets as fast as I dared. I never ventured beyond the safety of my shelter past nightfall, as the most unsavory characters of the Waterfront chose this time to appear. And sure enough, as I scurried along, there came the unmistakable sound of a cry of pain.

“Now listen close, you slimy little lizard, because this is your final warning,” a voice followed. “If Tussaud doesn’t have the full amount in his hands by morning, you’re dead. Got it?”

“All right, all right!” came the strangled reply. “You’ll get the money, just let me go, all right?”

I’d been preparing to flee, knowing I was walking into the exact situation I was afraid of, but at the familiar voice, I stopped dead in my tracks. Amusei and I weren’t friends—far from it, but after his earlier advice, we’d developed an uneasy truce. We’d exchange greetings in passing, and though I hated to admit it, it was nice to encounter a familiar face among the sea of strangers.

Swallowing back my fear, I raced around the corner to see a stranger had Amusei backed against the wall, and there was the glint of a dagger at his throat. I’d taken to carrying the Blade captain’s shortsword, and I reached a trembling hand toward it as I stepped forward.

“Amusei?”

The stranger’s head immediately swiveled in my direction, and I gulped as regret flooded my veins. He was _huge_ , and I’d conveniently missed the cutlass at his side. What had I even been hoping to accomplish here?

But the stranger only sneered at me, and turned back to Amusei. “Tomorrow morning,” he repeated. “And tell your little friend to stay out of my way if she knows what’s good for her.”

I bristled at the comment, but the stranger released Amusei and stalked off, knocking me with his shoulder as he passed. I glared after him before turning my attention back to Amusei, who’d absentmindedly lifted a hand to his throat.

“What was that all about?”

He didn’t answer, but gave a laugh instead—he was always laughing, but I couldn’t help but notice that he appeared visibly shaken. “A little bit of free advice,” he said, somewhat sheepishly. “If a known pirate offers you a favor, on terms you can’t refuse...don’t accept. No matter how good it sounds.”

“Pirates?” I raised an eyebrow, leaning against the wall across from him as he nodded.

“Don’t laugh,” he snorted, but trailed off into a sigh “I could have picked up a few extra jobs here and there instead and probably gotten by. Once they have you, they’ll never let you go.”

“Duly noted.” I pushed off from the wall.

“See that you do,” he called out as I walked away, and I paused, glancing back at him. He’d always seemed larger than life, but he’d never seemed half so small as he did in that moment.

“Are you going to be all right?” I ventured an ask.

He seemed surprised, but recovered quickly. “Oh, I’m always all right. Amusei always comes out on top.” His smirk slowly widened as he stared at me. “Besides, I have a plan. And come to think of it...” He, too, pushed off the wall, advancing slowly. “I could use a partner.”

“You want _my_ help?” I stared at him skeptically, and some of the tension eased from his posture as he laughed.

“Why not? You have something more important to do?” He sauntered past me, but paused before turning the corner. “Plus there’s some coin in it for the both of us if this goes well.”

It was clearly a terrible idea, but given my increasingly-futile job search, my good sense went straight out the window at the mention of coin. “Okay,” I heard myself agreeing before I could stop myself. “I’ll help.”

* * *

 

Amusei clearly knew his way around the city, and I struggled to keep on his heels as he raced through the streets, threading his way through countless shortcuts. “Where are we going?” I called out as he slipped down an alleyway, and he briefly turned, lifting a finger in a shushing motion.

“You’ll see,” he called back softly. “Now keep it down, all right?”

“Whatever,” I grumbled to myself, but I obliged. Besides, I couldn’t waste any more breath on talking—my months in prison had severely diminished my fitness levels, and he was _fast_.

Soon enough, I recognized the crowded streets of the Market district, and ahead of me, Amusei was slowing down. “Where to?” I gasped out as I stumbled up beside, my aching legs grateful for the relief.

“This way,” he whispered, motioning me down a side street.

“Can I ask what we’re doing?” I asked as we turned a corner into a deserted alleyway, and he shook his head.

“Shhh,” he said, glancing up at the illuminated windows above our head. “I’m counting.”

“Counting—” Counting _what_ , I has been going to ask, but at his glare, I clamped my jaw shut. “Right. I’ll shut up now.”

We made our along the alley, Amusei counting under his breath as he stared up at the windows, and finally he stopped, glancing back and forth between two darkened panes. “Right. Here we are.”

I stared up at the windows he had indicated, noting the start contrast between the two: one included the intricate wrought ironwork characteristic of the city’s Ayleid architecture, the other was a simple pane of plain glass. Amusei caught me staring and snickered. “I already made preparations last week,” he said smugly. “Help me with this, would you?”

I bit my lip, quickly glancing both ways down the alley as he began dragging a crate over to the wall. Nevermind that I’d recently been all but prepared to rob a grocer’s stand in broad daylight—my heart was pounding away, and my knees beginning to tremble. Wordlessly, I helped him shove the crate over, and he hopped atop it, using it to climb onto a large barrel already in place. “Find a rock or something,” he hissed, shrugging out of his vest.

I hesitated, wildly glancing around. We were in the middle of a city—there were hardly going to be any loose rocks sitting around. But one of the cobbles was loose, and I pried it up, ignoring the dirt ground under my nails as I cradled it in sweating palms. Amusei quickly wrapped it in his vest, but hesitated as he hoisted it up. “Keep a lookout,” he whispered. “If you see anyone coming, sound the alarm—and run.”

“What’s the alarm?” I hissed back, but he had already lifted the rock above his head, and I held my breath as he struck.

The leather barrier muffled the sound of the impact, but the shards crashing to the floor below were unmistakable. We both winced, and Amusei leaned forward to brush the rest of the glass away from the opening. “Here I go. Wish me luck,” he murmured—and then he hauled himself up onto the ledge. His feet kicked wildly in the air as he slithered forward—and then he disappeared. I braced myself for the crash of him falling into something on the inside, but there was silence, and I stepped backward until my back hit the opposing wall of the narrow alley.

 _Act casual_ , I told myself, but the minutes were dragging past and the wait was agony. What was taking him so long? How long did it take to lift a few trinkets? At least that was what I assumed he was doing, but it suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea what he was really up to.

It was beginning to drizzle, and I glanced up at the narrow crack of sky visible between the towering buildings. _Dammit, Amusei_. I crossed my arms over my chest, desperately wishing I owned a cloak. _Hurry up._

And then finally, his face appeared in the open window. “Help pull me up,” he hissed—and then began to slide back into the building. I darted forward, scrambling up the pile of junk and grabbing his outstretched hand. He clung to me as he dragged himself forward, and I could feel the barrel precariously teetering beneath my feet. Gritting my teeth together, I braced myself against the wall—and there. He got a knee onto the ledge and manage to maneuver himself out, leaping free and gracefully landing on the cobbles below as I slid down after him.

“Did you get what you came for?” I whispered as he straightened. He turned to me, looking exceptionally pleased with himself—but his eyes suddenly widened, and he froze with a look of horror as he fixated on something beyond my head. I turned to see it as well—a light in the shop he’d just crawled out of. I whirled back to him in a panic, and he mouthed a single word.

“Run!” He tore off down the alley and I raced after him, pure unfiltered terror coursing through my veins. It was quiet aside from our breaths and our feet pounding against the cobblestone, but I could have sworn I heard the shopkeeper behind us. Or even worse, was that guards I heard in pursuit? I was _not_ going back to prison. I was not.

“Wait!” Amusei abruptly skidded to a stop as we approached the end of the alley, throwing an arm out in front of me. He nodded toward the flicker of torchlight up ahead. “Guards.” He sighed. “Okay. Keep moving. Slow, but...not _too_ slow. Just two pals out for a nice stroll in the rain.” He took a deep breath, mirroring my own and we started forward.

I tried not to even so much as look at the guard as we passed, but an invisible force seemed to be pulling my head in that direction. _No_ , I sternly ordered myself. _Be_ casual _, dammit_. But I couldn’t resist one quick glance, and to my utter relief, he didn’t even seem to be paying attention, eyes glazed over as he stared right through us, the rain pinging off the metal plates of his armor.

And then we were past, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief as we once again disappeared into the safety of the shadows. Amusei appeared to be thinking the same thing, quickly glancing back over his shoulder. “Come on,” he whispered as he picked up the pace. “Let’s get home.”

* * *

 

The sky was lightening over the distant reaches of the Valus mountains as we arrived back on the Waterfront, and I was certain I’d never been more exhausted in my life. Although my heart still thrummed with the excitement of it all, my eyelids were like lead, threatening to fall shut at any moment. We paused under an overhang as we reached familiar streets, and Amusei turned to me. “I have to go fence these,” he whispered, patting his pocket. “I’ll bring you your share once I take care of things with Tussaud. You should get some sleep in the meantime.”

“Right.” I stifled a yawn. “You sure you don’t want me to come along? In case the pirates give you trouble?”

He shook his head. “You don’t bring a stranger to this sort of thing,” he said. “That’s just asking for trouble.”

“I see.” I nodded. “Then good luck. And make sure I get my share.”

He laughed. “You will! See you around, wood elf.” And then he dashed of into the night, leaving me to walk back to my shelter alone. The rain had picked up, and the sand was damp beneath the boat, but the moment my head hit the ground, I was off into the world of dreams.

It felt as though mere minutes had passed, but when a sharp knock against the boat awoke me, it was light outside. Rivulets of water were coursing down the beach, and my entire side was sodden. Grumbling to myself, I crawled out to meet a grinning Amusei. “Good morning, partner!” he sang. “Got a present for you.”

I caught the small sack as he tossed it to me, the clink of the coins inside music to my ears.  It felt so good just to hold it in my hands, along with everything it represented: the accomplishment, the security, and hopefully, a new blanket. “How did everything go with the pirates?” I asked.

“As well as can be expected.” For a moment his grin faltered. “But good news—they’re leaving town!” he added brightly.

“About time” I snorted, and Amusei let out a barking laugh.

“They’ll be back, though. All ships pass back through here eventually. But let’s save the worry for when we actually need it, hmm?”

“Right.” I snorted. “Anyhow, thanks Amusei.” I jingled coin pouch. “And if, uhh…” Suddenly embarrassed, my words faltered. “If you need a tagalong for...future exploits, consider me in.”

“That so?” he snickered, and I rolled my eyes. “I suppose I can keep you in mind. See you around, wood elf.”

“Later, lizard.”

He waved as he turned to head back up the shore, then paused, turning back to me. “Hey, did you want to bring your stuff up behind the wall? You’re about to get washed away down here. And we’ve got a fire going,” he added proudly.

I was already soaked to the bone and shivering, and an entire river had developed in the middle of the beach, coursing right underneath my little shelter and even washing away some of my traps. But even aside from that, somewhere between me pulling him out the store window and our flight back to the Waterfront, we had become friends.

“You know,” I said, feeling the beginnings of a smile tug at the corners of my mouth, “I think I will.”


End file.
